The Blue Danube
by ReillyJade
Summary: Charlie unfolded the letter for the umpteenth time since receiving it. He knew reading it again wouldn't do any good – in fact, it would most likely continue to make him feel worse – but he did it anyway. It was all still too hard to believe. {Written for Laura.}


_DISCLAIMER:_ All of the places and characters in this story belong to the genius Ms. J.K. Rowling. No profit is being made from this story. It only serves to (hopefully) entertain_._

Rated T for foul language and references to substance use.

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_**-The Blue Danube-**_

Charlie fidgeted with the letter in his hands as he made his way to the holding quarters. The piece of parchment had arrived a mere three days ago, but already looked years old. He'd lost count of how many times he'd reopened it, refolded it, crumpled it, tossed it across the room, and tore it to pieces. Despite his relatively decent charm work, the mend marks couldn't be hidden anymore; there were far too many.

The stars were out and the moon was full, not that he needed the light. Charlie knew the dragon sanctuary like the back of his hand; he could most likely navigate it blindfolded while walking backwards through a windstorm. It was home, after all, and had been for quite a few years. This wasn't to say he didn't miss the Burrow, but there was something about being surrounded by dragons that fit with him. In spite of the danger, it was the most peaceful place he'd ever encountered.

It was until three days ago, anyway.

With a nonverbal, wandless spell, Charlie unlocked the large steel door to the bastille. Before pulling it open, he glanced over his shoulder. He wasn't too concerned about being caught, seeing as it was well after two in the morning, but he wouldn't have been surprised to see Cranston or Wiggins hop out from behind a tree to give him a lecture and send him back to his building. When Charlie saw no one, he pulled the miraculously quiet door open and closed it behind him.

A few torches remained lit along the walls, allowing him to see the sleeping dragon laying on the cold ground. Her snores were steady and a bit of smoke emerged from her nostrils with each heavy breath. She was curled up in a ball, almost as if she were actually a large puppy with wings, and her spiny tail was tucked beneath her. The chain that looped around her neck was, in Charlie's opinion, far too short, but he wasn't surprised.

He unfolded the letter for the umpteenth time since receiving it. He knew reading it again wouldn't do any good – in fact, it would most likely continue to make him feel worse – but he did it anyway. It was all still too hard to believe.

_-From the Desk of Grigore Nicu Negrescu-  
__-Minister for Magic of Romania-_

_On this day, the eleventh of May, 2003,  
__the Portuguese Long-Snout known as Nelinha,  
__under the care of the staff of the Romanian  
__Dragon Reserve, is sentenced to execution for  
__the deaths of two wizards, aged fifteen and sixteen,  
__and one witch, aged sixteen._

_The execution will be a goblin sword to the heart  
__and will take place at the Romanian Dragon Reserve  
__on the fifteenth of May, 2003 at noon._

_This case is declared closed. _

Charlie's blood boiled at that last line. _This case is declared closed._ There had never been a "case," or anything even close to resembling one. The incident had occurred less than a week ago, and they were already prepared to kill her.

Charlie felt sorry for those kids and their families, he really did, but they'd had no business being on the reserve, and especially not so close to the bloody dragons. The dragonologist who'd invited them should have known better, or at the very least kept a closer eye on them. But no. He'd wanted to be the _cool older brother_ and let his sister and her two friends wander a bit too much.

In Charlie's opinion, the kids hadn't deserved what they got, but it was still their own fault. They'd been stupid, plain and simple. It doesn't matter what kind of fences are around a dragon or how many chains are binding it; _you don't toss pebbles at a full grown dragon to get it to move! _It was common sense, really, especially when the dragon in question had an egg to protect.

_Her egg,_ Charlie thought suddenly.

He looked around Nelinha's sleeping form, but the egg was no where in sight. Of course they'd taken it. Charlie let out a sad sigh and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

He hated this. He _really_ hated this. The only reason Nelinha had breathed fire on those kids was because they'd been instigating her. She'd felt _threatened._ She'd been protecting herself and her young. Her actions had been nothing but normal.

But three kids burned alive on the reserve? That was bad publicity. It reflected poorly upon their facility. Once the news got out, public outrage ensued because all they saw were three dead youngsters. They didn't care that the dragon wasn't at fault; all they cared about was revenge on the beast that killed _innocent _victims. So they cried foul and petitioned for the execution, pressuring the government to take action.

And the bloody Minister gave in to shut them up and make himself look good. Sure, those in the top ranks at the reserve could've fought the execution order, but why risk losing a good chunk of their government funding for one damn dragon?

_It's all about the fucking money,_ Charlie thought.

He'd bolted up to headquarters the day he received the letter, begging them to reconsider. He'd even volunteered to look for funding elsewhere, or even take a paycut. But they refused, and Charlie _hated_ them for it. Those who were now running the place had forgotten where they came from. Once upon a time, they were like him, like Wes, like Cecelia: in it because they loved magical creatures and _cared._ But they didn't work with the dragons directly anymore. They'd lost sight long ago about what the reserve was really all about.

Charlie walked along the length of the dragon that had been in his and Wes' care since she arrived at the reserve four years before. She looked grey from a distance, but up close, it was easy to see the blue shimmer that glossed over some of her scales. As he walked, he watched the blue seemingly disappear, only to reappear in a split second; it was like watching the nearby river ripple in the wind, only Nelinha was shinier and much more extravagant. He had an inkling to touch her scales, but he wouldn't dare; the Hogwarts motto had been burned into his mind, and he didn't quite fancy learning what would happen if it was ignored.

It didn't matter in the end. Nelinha woke up as Charlie neared her head, and she didn't so much as flinch when she saw him. This sort-of surprised Charlie, considering how many of his scars were attributed to this feisty girl, but it made sense the moment he saw her charcoal eyes. There was dejection lurking there, _sadness_, and Charlie didn't know if it was because they'd taken her egg or if it was because, somehow, she knew what was coming. He wondered if maybe it was both.

Either way, he could feel his eyes begin to bathe in tears, _angry_ tears. He wanted to slaughter everyone in headquarters. _She's just a dragon,_ they'd said when he implored them to fight for Nelinha.

_Just_ a dragon. How _dare _they? If only they could see what Charlie saw now, they'd surely rethink their decision. The way she looked at Charlie was proof that she had feelings. She felt love and fear. Who were they to suggest that just because she was a dragon, she didn't have a soul? How could they say that about _any_ magical creature?

"Hey, Nellie," Charlie whispered, gently stroking her neck. "How's my girl?"

The dragon just stared at him, seemingly pleading with him to get her out of the whole mess.

"I'm so sorry you're in here. I know it's too small. I tried to get them to let you stay in the bigger one, but... you know them. Pigheaded gits, they are."

Nelinha huffed, smoke wafting from her nostrils and casting Charlie in a temporary ball of fog. He was instantly reminded of the first time a stray flame from her breath hit him; there was a patch of skin on his forearm that would forever remain hairless because of it. He allowed a small smile at the memory.

"I wish there was something I could do," he choked out. "I promise you, I tried. I did _everything_ I could think of. I just... I don't think we're getting out of this one."

Charlie knew Nelinha couldn't understand his words, but he hoped his tone and touch were enough to ensure she knew how much he cared.

"I love you, girl," he whispered.

Before he completely broke down, he made his way out of the bastille. He hated long goodbyes; the fact that this one was completely unjustified only made it worse. He opened and closed the door just as quietly as he did minutes before, sealing his view of Nelinha forever.

Charlie stood outside it for a quite a while, staring at the lever one had to pull down to open it. It was the early hours of the morning. He _could_ set her free if he did it quickly and quietly enough. Surely the big shots would assume either Wes or himself did it, but they wouldn't have proof, would they? All he had to do was unchain her neck, lead her to the door, and let her fly...

He reached for the lever.

"Don't even think about it, Weasley," a voice came sharply from behind him.

Charlie spun around to see a tall, burly man step out from the thicket of trees nearby. He was puffing a cigarette while raising his wand.

_Fucking Wiggins,_ Charlie thought. He _knew_ either he or Cranston would have been lurking around at some point.

"C'mon," Charlie said. "No one has to know."

"_I'll_ know," Wiggins argued. "They told me to keep an eye on this place. If the dragon goes missing, how am I going to explain that in the morning?"

"But she's innocent!"

"I know she's bloody innocent, you fool!" Wiggins scolded. "I never said I liked it!"

Charlie stared back at the door, then at the ground. It had been a long shot, anyway; the chances of him getting away with it had been slim to none. The bosses won this time. Bastards.

"At least I let you say goodbye," Wiggins said suddenly.

Charlie nodded. "Thank you."

"Now get outta here. I'm sure Wes will be here soon to try to do the same thing."

When he arrived at his building a few minutes later, Charlie was surprised to see Cecelia leaning up against the wall and seemingly waiting for him. She'd clearly just hopped out of bed not too long ago. She was still in her pajamas and her ash blonde hair was tied back in a very sloppy ponytail, or maybe it was a bun; Charlie couldn't tell. There was a bottle of Odgen's hanging loosely from her grip.

"How long have you been here?" he asked.

"Just a few minutes. I tried to get Wes, but he won't come out of his room. He's... he's a wreck."

"Can't say I blame him."

"Anyway, I can't sleep," Cecelia said. "I'm heading down to the river. Care to join me?"

The pair of them walked the ten-minute trek to the riverbank in silence. He and Cecelia, and sometimes Wes, went to a little spot near the edge of the water they could only get to by going through the woods. Wes had found it a few years before when he needed a secret place to smoke his weed. As far as Charlie knew, they were the only three who knew about it.

When they got there, they exchanged not words, but sips of firewhiskey. They quietly passed the bottle between them, amber liquid burning their throats as they stared out at the Danube. The stars reflected on the water as it snaked through the mountains on its way to the Black Sea, and for once, it looked beautiful. At night, it always looked beautiful.

It wasn't as pretty by day; not anymore, at least. Charlie was told that years ago, the river was once the most brilliant shade of navy. It probably matched Nelinha's scales. It still sort-of retained that shade, but it was tainted brown, and the occasional piece of rubbish would go floating by. Over the years, people had ruined their beautiful river with pollution and carelessness.

"Why is this happening, Cece?" Charlie asked after a long while.

Cecelia didn't need to ask Charlie what he meant. She always knew, usually because she was thinking the exact same thing. She considered his question for a few moments, slurping down more than her share of liquor and wiping her mouth with the sleeve of her nightshirt before answering.

"Because people are assholes," she said bluntly. She'd never been one to sugarcoat things.

Charlie didn't argue, because when things like this happened, he was inclined to agree. Maybe that's why he'd been so drawn to magical creatures in the first place: they weren't selfish, power-hungry, careless maniacs like people were. A dragon would never cast someone off for personal gain, for money, for entertainment, for revenge. But people? In Charlie's experience, he'd come to find most would do it in a heartbeat if it meant they got something in return.

That's what they did to Nelinha. Nobody wanted to face the fact that three kids had fucked up, so they pinned the blame on a creature who couldn't speak for itself, and it was disgusting. It was _wrong._

People didn't care who or what was affected by their decisions, as long as it made their lives simpler. They'd kill an innocent animal for closure, exploit others for money, or dump their foul waste into a river just so they wouldn't have to deal with it anymore. Out of sight, out of mind. That's how they all operated.

He wondered if the world would be better off without them. When the last human on Earth died, would every other creature finally get to live in peace without interference?

Charlie knew not everyone was bad. He may not have been a saint himself, but he knew when push came to shove, he was a good person. His family was good. Wes was good. Even Wiggins, the prat that he was, had his virtues. And Cecelia, one of the best friends he'd ever come to know, had a heart a gold. There on the riverbank, she looped her arm through his and allowed Charlie to lean on her shoulder as he began to cry.

Hell, Charlie knew _most_ people were good, or at the very least had good intentions.

But sometimes, it wasn't enough. All around the world, people got rich by screwing over the poor. Hate brewed over skin tones and who loved who. The forests were being destroyed. Children were sitting in orphanages waiting with bated breath for someone to love them. The river was dirty and Nelinha would be dead in nine hours.

And when he thought of these things, Charlie was ashamed to be human.

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**Author's Note:** I borrowed the title from Johann Strauss II's waltz of the same name. This was written for my darling Laura (Someone aka Me) as part of the 2014 GGE. Hope you enjoyed it, love! (And hopefully this wasn't too depressing for your liking...)

Thanks for reading! :)


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